Never Been Kissed
by DrummerDancer
Summary: The bets are out when Al unwittingly reveals his brother's never kissed a girl. But is it true? And who exactly is Roy betting on to steal that first smooch? Eventual Roy/Ed.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Never Been Kissed  
Author: drummerdancer  
Verse: None  
Characters/Pairings: Entire cast, eventual Roy/Ed  
Word Count: ~2500  
Rating: T  
Summary: The bets are out when Al unwittingly reveals his brother's never kissed a girl. But is it true? And who exactly is Roy betting on to steal that first smooch? Eventual Roy/Ed.  
A/N: A big thanks to Half Demon Alchemist for looking this over. You rock!

* * *

It was, to the great amusement of many, the third Tuesday of the month, the day Edward was due to report in to Colonel Mustang about his research. Havoc and Breda had come prepared to the teeth for the occasion; a total of eight different bets had been pledge over the last week, with as many as ten different soldiers betting on any one outcome. Fuery had obtained the details about his latest mission, and Falman had the exact orders by which Ed was supposed to follow. Even Hawkeye had laid down a few bets, though hers were all listed under 'Elizabeth' to preserve her much-overhyped cold disposition to office fun.

The only one not playing was the colonel himself, who found betting on Edward's antics to be "counterproductive to receiving less paperwork" and "an encouragement of bad behavior". He could not be swayed on this no matter what anybody told him, so he was eventually no longer asked what he thought Ed would do. It was just as well, though; more people were willing to bet when they realized Mustang wouldn't skew the game in his favor.

And so Tuesday began: the whole office was there by eight, each eagerly waiting for Ed not to show at nine. When he, indeed, did not show up at nine, several cheers went up as Breda tallied bets and Falman handed over money, the only officer to bet Ed would be on time.

Ten o'clock passed and both Fuery and Hawkeye took out their wallets. Havoc and Breda grinned as they took their money.

It wasn't until an hour and a half later that they finally heard the telltale sign of Edward approaching their door: the uneven gate of his automail echoed down the hallway, especially when he ran. And boy was he sprinting today.

A flash of a red coat was all they saw as Colonel Mustang's private office door was slammed shut, followed by the clanking of a suit of armor as he tried to creep undetected into their office. If a suit of armor could look bashful, Alphonse had it down to a T.

"I tried to wake him..." was all he got out as the inner office erupted with yelling.

_"Who are you calling so short he couldn't reach up to set the alarm clock?"_

Alphonse groaned, embarrassed. The rest of the office laughed as Breda checked the list.

"First short joke at..." he looked at his watch, "11:26. Less than a minute since Ed arrived."

"Damn...called that one wrong," said Havoc as he laid down his money. "I'd thought by now the boss would be used to Mustang teasing him."

"Brother's still...rather sensitive about it," Al said, wringing his leather gauntlets together. He looked around rather nervously before sitting down on the couch, his head bowed as if in deep thought. Hawkeye frowned, stopping in the midst of signing a piece of paperwork to stare at him.

"Is something the matter, Alphonse?"

Al jerked up, looking even more frazzled than he did previously. "Oh no, it's nothing, Miss Hawkeye. Just thinking, that's all."

"Penny for your thoughts?" Breda asked, winking as he tossed one of his newly collected cenz up in the air, letting it fall on his thumb as he looked down at it, grinning. Havoc rolled his eyes.

Al squirmed like only a suit of armor could as he played with his hands, not looking at any of them. "It's just...I've been wondering lately about something, and Brother doesn't know a lot about it..." He squirmed some more. "...have any of you guys ever kissed somebody?"

Falman, who had been in the middle of a sip of coffee, made a loud choking noise. Fuery turned a fire-engine red and Hawkeye looked just the tadest bit surprised. Havoc and Breda, though, were laughing like hyenas as they got up and approached Al, who looked like he wanted more than anything to blend in like the truly empty suit of armor he used to be.

"Al, my boy, welcome to the golden age of adolescence," Havoc said, thwarting him on the back. "Kissing is only the first of many steps you'll soon take on your journey to adulthood."

"We'll have to invite you on our next bar run," Breda added, his face sliding into a leer. "I'm sure there are many a woman who'd like to get inside _you_."

Alphonse looked _mortified._ The instant Edward opened the inner office door, muttering obscenities under his breath about the colonel prohibiting his travel for the next two months, Al grabbed him by his hood, yelling a quick, "OhIDon'tThinkThat'sNecessaryGuysThanksBye," as he and Edward disappeared out of the office, leaving two cackling lieutenants behind in their wake.

Falman and Fuery looked embarrassed, and Hawkeye looked pissed.

"Boys, was that really necessary? Alphonse is fifteen years old; _of course _he's going to have questions about that."

"But he asked _us_," Havoc laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. "Out of all the people he could've gone to."

"That's true," Fuery said, confused. "Why didn't he ask someone else, like his brother?"

"He said his brother didn't know a lot about it," Falman said, puzzled.

Havoc's eyes widened. "Wait, you don't think-"

Breda had already rushed back to their desks, pencil in hand as he began drawing a new column. The title read _Lip Virgin Status of E.E._

Hawkeye was reaching for her gun. "Boys, I think this is a highly inappropriate thing to start taking bets on."

Havoc was shaking his head, walking around to Breda as his grin split in two. "Nah, I don't think so. You guys bet on my love life all the time-Boss is fair game as far as I'm concerned."

"He's right, Hawkeye," Breda said. "And you've participated in said bets, which means you've already consented to this."

"But Ed's only sixteen-"

"We're already betting on all the other things he does," Falman stated, rubbing his chin in thought. "It's not a far stretch to bet on this part of his life, too."

"Although," Havoc said, looking over Breda's notes. "It says here 'Elizabeth' has lost the past three bets in a row. Maybe it's time she retir-"

A bullet grazed past Havoc's head. He squeaked, diving under his desk. Hawkeye stood and walked over to Breda's desk where the bet book lay open, her eyebrow raised as she holstered her gun.

"Shall we draw up the rules then?"

* * *

"I can't _believe _that bastard froze my research budget for being late! What a sodding asshole!"

"Brother, can you _please_ keep it down? We're in a libra-"

"Such an asshole. The biggest one around. Why, if I could get my hands-"

"_Brother!" _Alphonse looked horrified as his brother pretended to squeeze an imaginary neck between his hands, a manic grin plastered across his face.

Edward stopped, exhaling as he threaded his hands behind his head and leaned back on his library chair, feet on the table. "You okay, Alphonse? You've been acting kinda weird lately."

Alphonse looked away, grabbing at a book about organic alchemy Edward had pulled from a nearby shelf. _I'm fifteen years old and having thoughts about girls while you're sixteen and pumped full of hormones and all you can think about is plant alchemy. Yes, I'm acting perfectly normal; it's you who is acting strange!__  
_

His brother never mentioned girls. The only one he ever talked about was Winry, and it was always to complain about the automail.

Did he not feel like Al did? Was something wrong with him? Did he not want to talked about it with Al?

"Oh, it's nothing, Brother," Al said. "Just a bug or something."

"A _bug?"_ Now it was Edward's turn to look startled. "Is there a problem with your seal? Do we need to transfer your soul into something else? Al I don't think-"

"Brother, relax. It was a joke."

"Oh." Edward seemed to ponder the thought for a moment before picking up another book, the cover of _Albert Abbott's History of Botanical Alchemy: An Introduction _staring him right in the face. "Well, whatever. So I'm going to have to go back and kiss his smug-ass feet tomorrow in order to get it reinstated. And he's ordered us to stay local for the next two months as well."

"Why?"

"Dunno." Edward flipped to the first page. "Bastard didn't say."

"So what are we going to do until then? Grow flowers?"

Edward scowled, flipping to the next page. "Something like that."

* * *

It took Mustang's staff very little time to figure out Edward's traveling privileges had been revoked for two months; in fact, the colonel himself informed them all on his way out for lunch that should they happen to see a red coat heading for Central Rail, they were obligated to "stop him in his midget-sized tracks". And then he was out the door, unknowingly leaving his staff behind to make devious bets about said subordinate.

"I bet Ed just hasn't had time for girls," Havoc remarked, casually spinning a pencil around his fingers as he leaned back on his chair. "Set him up with Hillary or Vanessa and he'll be kissed within the hour."

"But Fullmetal has quite the reputation in the places he's visited," said Fuery as he made notes on a sheet of paper. "If it was really that simple, wouldn't he already have done it?"

Breda shook his head. "Al said his brother didn't know much about it. We just need to set him up and _bang, _hormones'll kick in and Ed'll have his tongue down her throat, no questions asked."

Fuery looked unsure. "But how do you know that's what Ed would do? I don't kiss girls on first dates; maybe Ed's a romantic and wants to be exclusive with one girl at a time?"

"Plus," Falman interrupted, "what about his female mechanic? Maybe he's already got a thing with her and is waiting to kiss her instead?"

Havoc sat his chair back down on all four legs, grinning at all of them. Each man was coming to their own conclusions about how Ed would react. This was good; bets were always more interesting when people were divided. The only one not to weigh in yet was Hawkeye, who was calmly cleaning her gun, her eyes averted, her lips pulled in a flat line. Had it been anybody else observing her, Havoc was sure they'd assume Hawkeye wasn't listening and didn't care to add anything. On the contrary, though, Havoc knew her expression for what it really is; interest, perplexing and concentrated interest as she weighed the opinions in her head and released none of her own. Clever lady, though he'd never say it to her face.

"Hawkeye, you got anything to add?" Breda asked as he began writing up the guidelines.

She paused in her cleaning, eyes on them all as she spoke. "Under no circumstances can Edward be forced into doing or committing the act. No drugs, no alcohol, no bribery. Also, _he _has to consent to the kiss. It's cheating for someone to kiss him unwarranted."

They all nodded as Breda wrote down the rules. "Anything else?"

"Edward cannot know about the bet."

"Duly noted." Breda finished with the list. Everybody was looking at him and the book. He grinned. "Are we ready to bet?"

* * *

A gold coin was slid to him under the guise of a napkin. Mustang placed his hand over it through the cloth.

"Another fake, I'm guessing?"

"Fourth one this month," answered his companion, her heavily made-up eyes narrowing. "And it's not even close to the real thing."

"Hm. Who gave you this one?"

"Martin Messer, the liaison for Ingle Industries."

"Hm." Roy Mustang folded the napkin underneath itself and slipped it into his pocket. "Thanks for letting me know. Call if you receive another one."

"Will do." His companion gave him one last dark look before standing and leaving, a cheeky wink and a kiss blown his way the last he saw as she turned the corner and left.

Roy frowned; something was happening, something _big. _Fake money hardly ever got rotated into circulation, especially in Amestris's capital city. To think Chris's girls had received four pieces in the last month was unheard-of to say the least.

He paid for their meals and left, the gold piece still wrapped in cloth in his pocket. _Yes, unheard-of indeed._

* * *

Stupid Mustang. Stupid stupid stupid.

Edward was drawing a lead hole into his paper, his automail clenching unconsciously as he scowled. _How dare he! Stupid bastard can't permit me not to travel or take away my research budget. Hell, I have money of my own I can spend! I don't need him; Al and I will be on the next train tomorrow and he'll have no idea._

Even as he thought it, though, Edward knew they wouldn't leave. For all that Ed lacked in morals, Al more than compensated for them in the end. They'd stay, and Ed would have to go in in the morning, and they'd deal with not leaving for two months. That's how it worked, even if Edward wished it were otherwise.

_Still doesn't stop the bastard from being a bastard. Doesn't even tell me why we can't travel. Stupid stupid stup-_

His paper ripped. His pencil broke.

Edward was not happy.

Alphonse had wandered off into the library half an hour ago because Ed had started ranting about Mustang again. It was weird, really; usually his brother stuck around and tried to get him to realize Mustang was on his side in all of this, but lately, Al had been less vocal about it. Ed had, at first, assumed it was because Al was seeing Mustang for the evil smirking bastard that he was, but no, it wasn't just conversations about Mustang. They could be talking about food or lodgings or even _kittens_ and Al would stop paying attention, staring off into nothing like he wasn't there anymore or something.

If Ed was being honest, he was kind of scared. Al refused to talk about what was bothering him, and _that, _out of everything else, was simply something Al didn't do. Was it something bad, something serious? Something...

Edward lowered his head. Something about his body? Was he finally realizing what he'd done to him, realizing that there was a chance they'd not get it back in time? Was he angry with him? Did he hate him?

Edward groaned, resting his head in his arms. All he knew was today sucked, and tomorrow was going to suck even more.

Stupid Mustang. This was all his fault.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Never Been Kissed  
Author: drummerdancer  
Verse: None  
Characters/Pairings: Entire cast, eventual Roy/Ed  
Word Count: ~2400  
Rating: T  
Summary: The bets are out when Al unwittingly reveals his brother's never kissed a girl. But is it true? And who exactly is Roy betting on to steal that first smooch? Eventual Roy/Ed.  
A/N: Thanks, as always, to the lovely Half Demon Alchemist for looking this over *dazzles you with Armstrong's sparkles*

* * *

The rules were completed that early afternoon, and bets were placed by the end of the day. As divided as everyone had been, nobody seemed to think Ed would go without being kissed by the end of two months. After all, to a teenager, two months was an eternity, and for someone as startling as Ed was, it was only a matter of time.

News of the bet spread like wildfire in the barracks, and by Wednesday morning, a grand total of 23 bets had been placed, a good deal of them by young female privates hoping to be the girl he kissed. No sooner had Roy Mustang walked in, however, did the book get pushed aside in favor of "Good morning, Colonel!" and "May I get you a cup of coffee, Colonel?"

Lieutenant Hawkeye was quick to unlatch the safety on her pistol, shooing the now starstruck privates away. Colonel Mustang ignored all of them, though, stepping into his office without even the slightest attempt at 'hello'.

The door clicking shut surprised all of them, including his staff standing around.

"I wonder what's his problem," Havoc said as he pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. A bullet knocked it out of his hand and onto the floor, unlit and broken.

Breda smirked. "He's probably hungover."

"On a Wednesday?" Fuery asked. "That seems unlikely."

"Ladies, if you don't mind." Hawkeye was standing up now, motioning for the privates to leave. "This matter is of no concern to yourselves."

No sooner had the last private left, though, did the hallway explode into a loud chorus of "Good morning, Edward!" and "May I get you a cup of coffee, Edward?" And, same as before, the object of their affection ignored them, stalking into the office muttering, 'damn bastard's gonna give me my research budget back!' before the inner office door closed, leaving the office again in a sort of shocked silence.

"...well, that was odd," said Hawkeye as she pocketed her gun. They waited for the telltale signs of yelling...

...and were soon rewarded for their patience.

_"Who are you calling so short you can't see them behind your paperwork?"_

The office relaxed. The universe was still spinning on its axis.

* * *

Edward gritted his teeth and tried to remember how to breathe. It was bad enough that his brother had woken him by way of rolling him off his mattress at seven in the morning, but now, to realize that Mustang had _lied to him..._

"I didn't lie to you, Edward," Colonel Mustang said cooly. "I said come back in the morning with a good reason and I'd be more than happy to reopen your account."

"I _do _have a good reason, you bastard!" Edward was trying not to shout but it was too damn difficult; Mustang got under his skin like no other person he'd ever known. The salamander was the symbol for fire but the snake was the symbol for Mustang; a slithery, slimy bastard who always said one thing but meant something else entirely.

Mustang was now leaning back in his chair playing with a paperweight of a brown dog, his eyes off somewhere else. The thought of strangling the man _did_ come to mind, but then that would be just too easy. If Edward ever did decide to kill the man, it would be long, drawn-out, and delicious.

"'Buying books' and 'restoring Al' are not valid reasons to re-instate your account," Colonel Mustang said, twirling the dog around on his fingertips. "You can check the books out at the library for free and we both know money isn't what you're really after in regards to Al's body. No, I see no reason to give you back your funds."

Edward was seeing red. _"You. Fuckin-"_

"That's all, Fullmetal. You're dismissed."

Edward's automail hand almost, _almost _swung out and hit Mustang upside the head. He was shaking from the effort not to strike him. The man _absolutely _infuriated him. But Al was waiting for him back at the dorms and Ed knew he wouldn't appreciate bailing his brother out of jail for murder so...

With extreme effort and control, Ed left Mustang's private office, the only sign of his pent up aggression his force in closing the door. He was doing good, really good, he just had to get out of the outer office and-

"Hey, Boss!" said Havoc in an overtly cheery manner as he came right up to Ed, slapping him on the shoulder with his hand.

Ed was not in the mood for this. "Lieutenant, would ya mind _movin'_ your-"

"So Breda and I know this girl..."

Edward ducked around Havoc. "Yeah, sounds great, maybe another time." The outer office door shut behind him and he was free.

Ed stomped his way back to the dorms.

* * *

Fuery, Falman, and Hawkeye were cackling as Havoc and Breda gaped at the door. How the hell had Ed gotten out of the office so fast?

"Now, when you said 'watch and learn'," Fuery echoed, looking on towards where Ed left, "was Ed supposed to leave before you set him up or-"

"Shut up, Fuery," Havoc scowled. "The only reason that happened is because the chief riled him up. No way does the boss not want to go on a date with a pretty girl."

"But in three day's time?" Hawkeye was looking over the bets, now written in ink. "I think you and Breda might be wrong on this one."

"No way," Breda said, pounding his chest. "We got this one in the bag."

The rest of the office continued with raised looks. Havoc glared before shuffling back to his desk. "We'll ask him later, when he's calmed down. It'll be a piece of cake."

"With buttercream frosting," added Breda, his eyes going glazed as he patted his stomach and glanced at his desktop. Among his many trinkets and clutter, one of his chess pieces had been knocked over; the _castle._

Breda righted it and and began to plan their next course of action.

* * *

Edward didn't usually visit the military gym at Central HQ, but when he arrived back to a dorm whose sole occupant was a single scrap of notebook paper _("Be back soon. Don't get into a fight. Don't destroy property. Don't try to use alchemy to fix it. -Al"),_ he realized sitting around with nothing but plasterboard wall to punch wasn't going to cut it. Not to mention, Al explicitly telling him not to do that very thing meant he really, really shouldn't do it.

So he went back, bypassing the main entrance as he traveled to the gym behind the main building, fisting his hands in his coat pockets as he glared hotly at anyone who met his eye.

He hated it when people stared.

The gym wasn't air conditioned nor was it in the best condition. It was as old as Amestris itself and was always the last building to receive upgrades. And, judging by the paint-chipped walls and holes in the rafters, it was probably at the top of the waiting list at the moment, lingering precariously for the meager funds to keep it afloat.

Edward entered through the locker room side and found his assigned cubicle, cursing when he realized he didn't remember the combination. He hardly ever came here-whenever he usually got worked up, Al sparred with him until his limbs felt like jello pudding. But Al wasn't at the dorms.

_I wonder where he's at, _Ed thought as he clapped and broke the lock.

Inside were a pair of military issued sweatpants, a long-sleeved shirt, and a short-sleeved T-shirt. The short-sleeved shirt had never been worn.

Edward grabbed the long-sleeved shirt and pants and shut the locker door.

He glanced around.

He didn't hear anybody wandering around, but...

Ed headed to the stalls to change.

* * *

Al hadn't lied when he said he was going out. It had been the truth, the absolute truth, not a hint of deceit to it whatsoever.

...except Al also hadn't said where he was going, either. And that wasn't an entirely honest thing to do.

Al scanned another bookshelf, his leather gauntlet sliding across the bookends. He wasn't in an entirely unusual place; in fact, truth be told, he was in the Second Branch of the Central Library, the part open to the public. Regular civilians were musing along the bookshelves right alongside him, some giving him strange looks that he had come to expect while others ignored him entirely as they stuffed their noses between pages and continued on in their quest for the perfect book for afternoon reading.

As far as Al knew, Ed had never been to this part of the library. Only the most rudimentary of alchemy texts were located here. All the rest were at the First Branch, the part of the library they usually visited devoted entirely to alchemy and the sciences.

Al scanned another shelf. If he'd said he was going to the library, Ed would've came too. And that wouldn't have worked because he'd have been in the wrong branch and made the horrible assumption something bad had happened to Al when he found no suit of armor in their regular spot.

And if he'd said he was going to be at the Second Branch, Ed would've wanted to know why.

Al's armor flashed pink under his eyes. After what happened at headquarters yesterday, Al couldn't help but feel embarrassed for even thinking of asking Colonel Mustang's staff about girls. They were all a decade or more older than him; _duh, _of course they knew. In fact, by how they talked about them, they probably knew them a bit _too _well.

Al grabbed a book at random to hide his scarleting face. Yes, asking them had been a bad idea. But who else was he supposed to ask?

_Ed?_

Al pretended to swallow. Yes, logically he should ask his older brother, but apparently said brother simply defied logic or something. He never once seemed interested; just _alchemy alchemy alchemy, we're going to get your body back, Al, alchemy alchemy alchemy..._nothing else. Was he really so single-minded that he didn't even want to try to be social every once in a while?

A dark ball of something else settled in his stomach. Or did he feel too guilty about Al to try?

There were people standing on either side of the shelf he was looking at, staring intently at him. Al blinked then whispered 'sorry' as he grabbed a few books and headed for the checkout counter, his helmet hunched in thought.

Maybe Ed just wasn't interested yet. Or maybe he was embarrassed like Al was and just didn't want to talk about it. That was his typical mode of action; hold everything in, tight like a fist, until it becomes too hard to hold onto. Maybe he'd just explode into a rant about it and then everything would be okay again.

Until then...Al slowed down. Perhaps another book on the molecular structure of a hibiscus would appease him.

* * *

"Sir, why aren't you doing your paperwork?"

Roy Mustang's eyes flew open faster than that of a sharpshooter's speeding bullet. Lieutenant Hawkeye was standing in front of his desk, paperwork in hand, frowning at him, creases deep above her eyes. Her other hand was creeping up towards her pistol. Roy paled and tried to figure out what was going on. He'd been dreaming about blood-red money...

_Oh no, I didn't fall asleep, did I?_

He shook his head. No, after Fullmetal had stopped by, he'd just closed his eyes briefly. Sure, he'd had a late night at Chris's, sure his sleep had been restless and short, but he couldn't have been out for more than, what, five, ten minutes? Maybe fifteen...?

He found the clock on his desk; 11:17_. Almost four hours?_

And Roy had a meeting for lunch at 11:30. He needed to be leaving.

Hawkeye was still glaring at him, though. Roy hesitated before giving her his best apologetic look, preparing to stand.

"I appreciate the concern, Lieutenant-"

"Sir, forgive me for interrupting, but where do you think you're going?"

_Ah, damn. _"I, um, have a meeting at-"

"Sir, look at your desk."

Roy looked down. Most of the paperwork from yesterday had never gotten done and was scattered like a messy mosaic of black print all across the top of it. Or was that because he'd fallen asleep on it? He couldn't remember what it had looked like previously.

And Hawkeye had more paper at hand currently.

_Oh boy, this doesn't look good._

Trying to avoid a lecture that would stall him from making his appointment, Roy reached out and took the paperwork. "I'll do these at lunch."

Her glare deepened. "Those are meant to be done in the office, sir."

"Well, as you can see," Roy said, making a grand gesture with his head, "there is clearly no room in here to do such a thing. Thus, I must find another suitable location, preferably somewhere local I can also get a bite to eat. No harm done, Lieutenant."

"Sir-"

"-Well, I must be off." Roy didn't wait for her reply; he shuffled the stack to one arm and grabbed his coat from the rack and left, feeling the weight of chestnut eyes bore a straight path through the back of his neck.

But there was no time to grovel for her good graces. He had a meeting to catch whether she liked it or not.

A quick glance at the top sheet in his stack told him he had a fax from one _General Brookshire._

"Hm. This should be interesting."


End file.
